A/N: What am I doing? No seriously, what am I doing? I don't know.
This idea wouldn't have occured had Baymax not loved to point out in the movie to Hiro that he "should expect to grow pubic hair" and "new, powerful urges", then maybe I wouldn't be sitting here disproving my innocence.
Again, I dunno.
Anyway, I kept the...ehumm, unclean scene a bit abstract compared to other M-rated fanfics out there, cause...I still got standards, even if I keep cranking them up to blurry levels. Grammar errors and alike will be checked later on.
Warning: M-rating means what it does. If you're a kiddo, get out, you still have time!
Not every morning started out like this, but when you were a 14-year old boy experiencing the highlight of puberty, most of them did.
He would be waking up, and the first thing in his field of vision would be his member shamelessly standing on end which would put the tower of Pisa to shame. And when he noticed this, he would be slamming his head against his pillow and close his eyes as he let out a frustrated sigh.
When Tadashi was still alive, even when they shared a room, he would rarely notice his little brother having morning wood, but when he did...God, was it embarrassing. To him, at least. Tadashi would just chuckle it off and tease him about it and sometimes even tell him what happened to him during his age. Not that he had asked to hear about that information. He wasn't some kind of pervert. But Hiro knew that he had only tried to lighten up his mood and made him know that every man were in the same boat; he wasn't sitting alone in it. Although embarrassing, it was still something Hiro had appreciated. Like, how else do you wave off such a private thing so easily?
Most of his serving went to his interest and they belonged to inventive acts, and not usually acts that went to stimulating himself. Not that he hadn't of course, but he...just didn't, most of the time. Confusion went with puberty as well, so he begged the question that way.
'Puberty be damned', Hiro thought to himself as he stared at his manhood through spiteful eyes and embarrassment etching his face, like always. He swore that nothing was worse than being a growing boy. Heck, he would prefer pimples all over his back or a constant cracking voice in exchange of keeping his primal urges in check.
He saw something from the corner of his eyes, and to his horror, the luggage expanded so to make Baymax walk out of it. On instinct, he pulled the covers up over his lower area.
What really takes the cake is Baymax sharing a room with him. It wouldn't be that big a problem would he actually not analyze his erection every damn time he woke up with one. Yes, he had tried to tell him that he doesn't want to talk about it, but since he was a "nurse", it wasn't something he could ignore, especially since there was a quick solution to it.
After having heard it so many times, he could practically hear the robot's voice in his head.
'You're suffering a hormonal swelling in your genitals which is caused by natural, powerful physical desires. Your body is preparing and testing them for any sexual interactions in the future. The treatment is ignoring said trumescence, or alternatively, stimulation with your own hands, aka masturbation. You should be expecting these feelings and it's not shameful at all.'
The young boy just wouldn't want to do that solution. He knew these feelings were nothing to be ashamed of, but...something about it made him feel so guilty and dirty. However, if he wanted to avoid a verbal humiliation from said robot, there wasn't really a choice.
Hiro scurried over to the other side of the room, covers over his member (although he wore boxers), and made his quick way to the door. After slamming the door behind him just barely before Baymax had begun to function completely, he went to the bathroom to rinse himself off of these feelings.
He took off his boxers and stepped into the shower, letting the droplets of water coat his being and soak his brown hair. Pounding the back of his head into the shower wall, the equally colored bangs stuck to his forehead and he began to feel at ease, but the reminder of the reason he went here in the first place made him shift into concern.
'Come on, Hiro, you won't have to continue doing this for the rest of your life. You'll figure out how to make a PCB that hinders him from analysizing your hormones and mood swings. It's okay. You won't have to keep doing this...'
He took a deep breath and bit his lip before peeking past the bangs to see his member still standing at attention. He blush deepened and, before any new doubts could spring up into his mind, he gripped himself with newfound determination.
Despite feeling shame while doing it, he had a hard time preventing whimpers and becoming hot all over. He also couldn't hinder the weakness in his knees and the fact that it felt so good that despite feeling worn out you still kept going so the pleasure wouldn't go away. The water only made it worse; and by worse, he actually meant better. But since he had talked about how he preferred to deal with himself, it meant worse in his world.
His shame would still allow him to sink to the floor and have his fist in his mouth to prevent louder noises. The shame would still make him see stars as he approached his climax, and the shame would still make him think that 'Why is this feeling described with such a small word as 'pleasure'?' As he forgot how to breathe and gasped for what air that wasn't consumed by the warmth of the shower coupled with his own body heat, he panted like a dog. But all the while, he still felt shame.
The split second he forgot how to feel shame, however, was exactly before he climaxed. The pleasure topped anything. He couldn't smell, he couldn't taste, he couldn't see the misting on the glass doors nor hear his own yells; he could only feel, and that was what made sensory beat out its competition.
Sitting in a tangled mess of sweaty limbs in the aftermath, he was breathing harshly to regain composure and to remind himself where he was and what he should be doing. After he finished cleaning up himself and the shower, the shame was even stronger. It got even stronger when he found aunt Cass downstairs making breakfast, blissfully ignorant of what kind of not-so-clean activities her nephew had been up to just mere minutes ago. He would be blushing and stuttering as he poked at his plate of waffles, studying the contours of his breakfast to override his memory of the blinding stars. He also would listen intently to the TV out in the living room and the TV News to make it override his memory of his own animalistic growls and yells. But most of all, he would be pinching himself and possibly make a cut for the sole purpose of Baymax focusing on his pain and not on his teenage emotions and the uncontrollable urges he possessed.
The rest of the day he would be trying to do anything to get rid of the dirty feelings; he couldn't help it and he didn't know why. And he never asked to have these feelings. They just appear and demand attention, and while you can just ignore other events of such, this was a part of his being and it wasn't as inevitable, especially since he had a robot that couldn't help but point it out everytime it happened.
And when Baymax was asking him about the cuts and nothing else, he was actually more relieved.
What he did in the business of his personal space was after all, his own.
Even if he felt forced to do that specific business.
But if it made Baymax shut up about the bodily problems he wanted to keep to himself for a while, he wasn't complaining.
However, his shame was still complaining.
A/N: I got it figured out that Baymax only activates when someone feels pain, but whatever! I do what I want! *mimics rebellious teenage girl voice*
Reviews are awesome, btw. They make me happier than days off, because I get them too often. I dunno. Ask my school why that is.